Soigné
by my-chemical-romanoff
Summary: The FBI can't always catch their murderer, especially when the killer is one of their own. With Agent Romanoff slowly losing her mind, the blame just might be put on her...Hannibal AU. Blackfrost.
1. Prologue, Abzhorka

_ "Have you taken your medicine today, Natalia?" _

_It's a man's voice, far away and speaking in her native Russian tongue. She opens her eyes, but sees only darkness. _

_"Natalia."_

_The voice is muffled as though she's underwater. She tries to sit up, but an unknown force has her body frozen to the bed. Natasha closes her eyes and tells herself it's all just another nightmare. She will awaken soon, safe and undisturbed in her own bed. _

_Cold fingers dance across her cheek, sending a shiver up her spine._

_Natasha opens her eyes, but everything around her is pitch black. The fingers move to her neck and her throat feels tight. She's not breathing and her brain is screaming at her to wake up. Natasha closes and reopens her eyes, but it's not working. It feels like a weight is pressing against her chest and as much as she tries to flail her limbs, nothing's moving. She hears the painfully real sound of wheels squeaking against a freshly polished floor, followed by something light clacking against a metal surface. _

_"Hold still, Natalia," the voice urges in stifled Russian._

_Her mouth gapes open and closed as she struggles for air. Suddenly, she can see a set of perfect white teeth looming over her with a sinister grin. Then comes a stinging prick against her neck._

Natasha finally finds her voice as she bolts up in her bed. She takes several deep breaths in as she warily looks towards the pale yellow light streaming past her curtains.

_A nightmare._

She grabs her phone off the nightstand. 4:48AM. There's no chance in hell she's falling back asleep again, so she decides a hot shower might be a good start to her day. She gets out of bed and despite the chill in the air, her damp cami top clings to her body.

She should probably be concerned, but this isn't the first sleepless night she's suffered.

Natasha shuffles to the bathroom, her brain so focused on her nightmare that she could care less about the icy tile freezing her feet. Of all nights to not get any sleep, it has to be on the day of a job interview. Her prospective boss seems keen on having her at his investigation agency, even though she has no birth certificate, no personal records… Nothing but her name and a brief story of how her entire past was burned up in flames.

She enters the bathroom and lets the shower run near scalding while she begins to undress. What her possible employer doesn't know is that she's the one who started the fire. It would make for an interesting story, though-a sixteen year old mixing up a special Molotov cocktail for the bastards responsible for ruining her life.

But that wasn't the whole story.

She _purposely_ burned down and killed the seven men in charge of a criminal organization out of self defense… but she also killed twenty-seven other women whose lives were just as fucked up as hers.

Natasha Romanoff was- _is_- a murderer.

And she regrets none of it.

A small smile forms across her full lips as she steps into the steaming shower. She'll have a guaranteed job if she tells Chief Fury _that._

* * *

><p>"I really should turn you away. I think you know that," Nick Fury, head of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Behavioral Science unit begins.<p>

Natasha focuses on his good eye, though part of her brain is occupied with just how he got that patch over his left eye… "I know, sir," she answers. There's a thin, jagged line that goes from his left brow and stops at the top of his cheek. The scar is lighter than the rest of his naturally dark skin. It's a knife wound, most likely one that took his entire left eye with it…

"But I make the decisions around here." Nick laces his fingers together as he leans forward. He knows that the redhead's listening, but there's a distant look in her eyes. "And I'd like to have you on my team.

Natasha leans back in her chair and crosses her legs beneath the desk. "Even after I mentioned having no records, no educational background…"

"I know you're an intelligent woman," he states. "Your test scores are the highest I've seen in a long time."

Natasha arches a brow.

"This facility you mentioned growing up in," he continues.

She purses her lips and grips the armrests.

"They seem to have educated you well enough to get you here today…"

Can one man be so trusting? Not that she revealed the full details of her life story, but she knows the world is a cruel place. "And you really believe in my story, Mr. Fury?" Natasha coolly asks. "I mention some organization that I could have made up, but you seem to believe me." She's throwing herself under the bus now, but she's curious to know what's driving this man.

"I know it's real." He looks her dead in the eyes and hears her voice catch in her throat. "Paid a trip over there myself after hearing your story." Nick relaxes in his seat, not once losing Natasha's stare.

Natasha holds her breath and all she can hear is her heart pounding in her ears.

"You were too afraid to tell me what happened to you over there," Nick calmly continues. "By the looks of it, Ms. Romanoff, something has you scared."

"I-it was a school," Natasha chokes out. "They took me in after my parents died."

They were affiliated with the KGB, human experimentation, education… Nick doesn't dare speak a word of what he dug up. The woman sitting before him looks like she's seen a ghost. "You weren't the only survivor in that fire, Ms. Romanoff."

Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

"I asked handfuls of locals if they knew anything." He lowers his gaze. "Then there was a young woman, looked to be your age."

Natasha lurches forward in her chair and presses her hand over her mouth.

Nick watches her, his heart feeling like lead. "She had the same look as you do now after mentioning the place… But she talked." What Nick heard from that woman made him sick to his stomach. _Daily medication…_

Natasha's stomach churns and she feels her breakfast threatening to come back up.

_High test scores to earn dinner…_

Her chair screeches against the tile floor as she flees the office.

_Rape. _

The door shuts with a slam that knocks a frame off the wall.

_Lobotomies…_ Nick wonders how Natasha can find it in herself to live after all she's suffered through. He spins around in his chair to stare out the window. The sky is a dull grey. Maybe the first snow of winter will fall soon.

After several moments, the door creaks open, then closes. "I'm sorry," Natasha breathes. She returns to her seat and focuses on smoothing out her skirt.

"You're sure you can handle field work?" He turns to face her once again. There's still a lack of colour in her cheeks, but at least the fear in her eyes has disappeared.

"I wouldn't have signed up for anything I couldn't handle," she responds in a hollow tone.

"What made you want to work here?" he prods.

Natasha eases back in her seat. It's starting to feel like a proper job interview rather than an interrogation. "I originally came here to dance," she softly admits. "I've been told that I was a beautiful dancer." To this day, Natasha will never know if the doctors from her past really meant what they said. They were most likely indulging her girlish whims, but she's watched herself dance while alone in the ballet studio surrounded by mirrors. She thought she was good, if that mattered at all. "I've always heard that New York is the place to be, but since coming here, I realized I was kidding myself." She pauses and notices that Nick intently listens with a small smile. "I stole some money before leaving my… former residence." She's taking a risk by admitting this to an FBI agent, but she doesn't think he'll tattle on her. "It was enough to get me a flight over here. The rest went to renting an apartment. Then I snagged a part time job at a book shop a few blocks away." She's sure she must be boring the chief, so she decides to make a long story short. "On the way home one night, there was a break in at a drug store nearby. I stopped to watch with the crowd. There was blood and glass on the ground. And I remember a woman's body being carted out. The victim"

Nick knowingly nods as he recalls the incident.

"You were there," Natasha continues, "and the guy with a goatee claimed that the victim was shot through the store window."

"Anthony Stark," Fury states.

"But that wasn't the case…"

"You shouted that the shooter jumped through the window, shot the girl, stole some cash, then fled," Nick recites. "Tony thought _you _were looking suspicious after that," he chuckles.

Natasha shrugs and stares at his eye patch.

"When I asked you how you knew, you said-"

"'Instinct,'" Natasha interrupts. "I can't quite explain it…" She hesitates. "It's like I can put myself in another person's shoes… I see through their eyes, even if the person's dead."

"You're empathizing with them."

"It all comes naturally to me…"

"Which is why I said I wanted you for my team," Nick recalls with a grin.

"I thought you were joking." Natasha tucks a short curl behind her ear. "But you were genuine about it… And I haven't met any genuine people, Mr. Fury."

"Nick," he corrects.

"I feel like I can trust you."

He continues to smile at her. "I'm glad you feel that way…" Poor girl needs someone to trust… His mind keeps wandering to the darker parts of what this 'Red Room' did to her. How old was she when it all began? Was she abused every single day? Does she still think about it?...

She carefully observes him and shifts in her chair. "You trust in people too much, don't you?"

"I like to think that I keep my friends close and my enemies closer."

"An enemy took your eye out, then?" The room falls silent. Natasha can't even pick up the heater's gentle humming.

"Yes," is all the chief says in reply.

"I really should go." Natasha stands, but this time, she's careful about not letting her chair screech. "You really don't need to hire me," she quickly adds.

"But I do," Nick answers. She stops to stare at him, this time in the eye. "I'd like you to start Tuesday."

Natasha bows her head and manages a shy 'thank you' as she reaches for her purse.

"Her name was Yelena."

Natasha eyes him curiously. She knows that name. The face of a pretty girl with blonde curls comes to mind at the mention of it. "Belova," she adds.

"Would you like to contact her?" he offers.

She purses her lips, then shakes her head. "I've put the past behind me now. But thank you. Nick."

Needless to say, her job on the field lasted only seven cases over the course of two months. She had always been right in the middle of the crime scene action until she began to feel used. Natasha quit her 'special investigator' status once the pressure became too much. They picked up on her special gift and abused it. 'Romanoff, do this,' 'Natasha, I need you on this…' She refused to be the FBI's toy. Let the people use their own brains for once… Nick Fury still wanted her on the team, though, so he offered her a teaching opportunity for an upcoming class in the winter. She accepted, though at the time, she was unsure if she'd go back to a crime scene again…

* * *

><p>Slender fingers leaf through a collection of alphabetized business cards. They stop at the letter 'R' and a hand plucks the first one of the bunch. Then comes the exciting part, the recipe book. He feels like having beef tonight…<p> 


	2. Kasha

Sirens wail and blue and red lights blindingly flash, lighting up the dark residential street. A team of cops dressed in black are moving in and out of a middle class home. Neighbors are huddled together in the cold as they're forced to stand back and allow for an officer to create a blockade with bright yellow tape. The inside of the house is just as busy as the outside. There's a puddle of blood by the stairs and a team of analysts is chatting amongst themselves and snapping pictures. The coroners have just set a man's body on a gurney and begin to seal him up into a black plastic cocoon. To the farthest wall on the right is a mounted security alarm, painted with a light spray of crimson. A woman's body lay sprawled on the floor below, her pastel pink shirt stained with an ugly maroon. She's waiting for the coroners to finish up with her husband so they can be taken away together.

Natasha Romanoff stands in the midst of it all. Her keen eyes observe the woman's body, the blood dripping down from the alarm, the crimson puddle by the stairs… Two officers walk right past her, then a blood spatter analyst moves in to eagerly take pictures of the woman's waiting corpse. Natasha needs to shake them off. All the noise-the talking, the cameras, the footsteps-it's enough to drive anyone crazy.

She needs quiet. She needs to think.

Her eyes close and she focuses on her breathing amidst the surrounding darkness. She cancels out all the noise as she sends herself into her own private world. When she opens her eyes, the police officers disappear one by one, followed by forensics, until only the woman's body remains. Natasha struts towards her and doesn't even bat an eye as the body vanishes into thin air. She lifts her gaze to focus on the blood on the wall. Each droplet is lifted from its place as it flows back into space. Natasha begins walking backwards and watches as the blood by the stairwell shrinks in on itself until there's nothing there. She continues to walk backwards until she's out the front door and down the porch steps. With every movement, the CSI team begins to disappear, followed by the crowd of neighbors, cop cars, the ambulance… Now, there is silence. The redhead stands in the driveway alone and stares into the welcoming front window of the Parker home.

The wife moves past a veil of sheer curtains. She's heading for the kitchen to clean up from dinner.

Natasha waits for her to disappear from view.

That's when the inner animal kicks in, the one who craves fresh blood.

She sprints towards the door with heavy footsteps and kicks the front door open. The alarm begins wailing and there's a woman's shriek, followed by the incoming footsteps of her husband from upstairs. Natasha whips out her glock and knowingly points it towards a man with greying hair as he rushes down the steps. She shoots him once in the gut, then again in the neck. Natasha watches the light fade from the man's eyes as the last thing he lays eyes on is her. He loses his footing and stumbles down the stairs, cracking his head on the final step and creating a steadily growing pool of blood. "This is my design…" she murmurs.

Natasha turns her head to find the wife sputtering broken prayers as her trembling fingers desperately fight to punch a code into the alarm. She shoots the woman in the neck, simply paralyzing her. She's still alive, but completely immobile. A trail of blood leaves the woman's neck as she falls to the ground. Natasha moves in to hover over the body. Her finger reaches towards the alarm to punch in a code. The alarm stops its shrill blaring and a man's voice follows.

"This is NY Security, who am I speaking with?"

Natasha purses her lips in contemplation. "I need the incident report," she announces. The cops and forensics team have now returned and are busy attempting to piece together what happened within the home. An officer approaches Natasha and slips a manila folder into her gloved hand. She takes a moment to quickly scan the first two pages. "It says here this was a false alarm," she murmurs. "But there was one last week," she adds skimming past NY Security's statements.

The woman living here was most likely paranoid. Something like the wind causing a tree branch to scratch a window could spook her into reporting it to the security company.

Perhaps the murderer knew this factoid about her. Something was done on purpose…

"The line was tapped," Natasha tells herself as she tucks the folder under her arm and heads outside for the head officer's assistance.

Half an hour later, there's an electrician being lifted up onto a crane. "Yeah, it's been tapped!" he calls down after having checked the phone line across the street.

"The conversation was recorded," Natasha tells two cops and an investigator.

Say the woman called in over a trivial matter. She would be required to state her name, her password…

"This is NY Security, who am I speaking with?"

Natasha brings herself back into the killer's shoes. She pulls out a phone from her pocket and lets her thumb push play on a recording.

"May Parker," states the woman's pre-recorded voice. But the security office can't possibly tell…

"Can you please confirm your password for security purposes?" the man's voice continues from within the alarm system.

"Teakettle," the recording continues.

"Thank you, Mrs. Parker. We detected a front door alarm?"

"Yes, sorry about that."

"Is there anyone in the house with you?"

"Just my husband."

"Do you require any further help?"

"No," the recording finishes. "But thank you for calling."

Natasha's phone returns to her pocket as she stares down at the corpse.

"We've all thought about killing someone," Natasha states. In her hand is a photo of May Parker, dated from three weeks ago. She stands before her podium and stares out into the crowd of faces that curiously watch her. "Now imagine this." She presses a button on a tiny black clicker and the screen behind her reveals a photo of Mrs. Parker's pale face surrounded by her own blood. "Imagine killing Mrs. Parker. Why would she deserve this?" Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha notices her boss Nick Fury enter the classroom. She steals a quick glance at her phone that rests on her podium. There's eight minutes left of class, but Nick's frown is looking more pronounced than usual today and Natasha can feel his right eye refusing to look away from her. It's urgent. "We'll resume this Thursday," she finishes.

The students begin to pack up their laptops and notebooks, then proceed to file out, casually chatting amongst themselves. Nick sifts past the crowd until he reaches Natasha's podium. "How's the teaching coming along?" Nick knows that Natasha isn't the most sociable person, but the students seem to be liking her, and not just for her pretty face.

"Fine," she answers, gathering up her pen, clicker, and slide notes into a neat pile. "I told you before, I don't mind this position. I talk, they listen. I'm fine here, Nick."

"We've had seven victims lined up over the course of seven weeks," Fury explains to her. "A serial killer, but there's no found connection."

Natasha clasps her black messenger bag shut. "So you need me to help you out."

"Both male and female victims," he explains. "All relatively close in age, but it's not enough to draw any conclusions."

Natasha slings the bag across her chest and stares into Fury's one good eye. "Seven victims, seven weeks. That's one a week, yes?" she concludes. "When was the last victim found?"

"Five hours ago."

She raises a brow and follows Nick out of the classroom. "Is this killing done weekly as part of a ritual, perhaps?" Natasha prods as they walk amidst crowds of students.

"Yes," Nick answers. "All Mondays-that's when the victims have died, at least."

"The killer could be plotting the murders over the weekend." She follows Nick out of the building and over to his car. They both get in and Nick drives her to his office.

Nick has a corkboard in his office that's decorated with pictures of each of the victims taped to a map of the northeast with red yarn that starts at a portrait and leads to an estimated point of where the body was found. Three have been found in New York, two in Jersey, one in Pennsylvania, and one in Connecticut. They're fairly spread out. The victims themselves also look fairly diverse. One is Asian, another black. The rest are white. Two have beards, the rest don't. Short hair, long hair… She's finding no connection based solely on appearances. Each picture is labeled with an age. They all range in age from twenty-eight to thirty six. Natasha considers age to be a pattern, but two men are thirty-one, so she rules out that connection. "I'd need to see the crime scene," she says after taking a momentary pause.

"I figured you would say that," he sighs. "You should know that it's not pretty," he cautions. "Each of our victims is missing an organ. All different. One lacks a stomach, another a heart. All of it was done post-mortem."

Natasha raises a brow in interest. "Any idea on what the wounds look like?"

"Whoever did the killings knows their stuff," Fury replies. "Clean incisions and not a single nerve or muscle ruptured during the process. We're looking at someone with a medical background."

"Do you mind if I look over what you have on the victims?" Natasha asks.

"There's not a lot-we officially opened up investigation last week," he admits as he grabs the eight folders for the two months worth of victims.

Natasha takes the paperwork from him and follows him back out to the car. "How in depth has research gone?"

"Forensics is looking for any patterns that match up with the deaths. There's been no luck with that. Two were set up as strangling, one was made to look like a suicide… All that's leading us is these weekly Monday deaths and organs gone missing." Fury starts up the car and Natasha begins sifting through the papers on her lap.

"Where are we heading?" She pulls out her phone and enters victim number one's name into it.

"New Haven," he replies.

The kills don't seem to have any specific location pattern…

Fury happens to glance over and spy the familiar blue and white Facebook logo on his agent's phone screen. "Already checked," he grumbles. "None of them know one another. All different high schools and colleges," he matter-of-factly states.

"It's not always about people knowing people," Natasha mumbles as she types in another name. She reaches into her bag on the flood to grab a pen and notebook. "Sometimes, it's about _who _you know…" She scribbles down the name Maya Hansen. She's friend to four of the victims. The others know an Aldrich Killian. "Should've looked harder, Nick," she murmurs. "Or have Barton do the online research." She then scans the files to check if any of the victims had any illnesses.

"So you have a lead?" A smile slowly spreads across Fury's lips.

"Hansen and Killian. They work for the same chain of pharmaceutical companies," Natasha reveals. "You mentioned a suicide…" She carefully flips through each individual's cause of death. "Jack Taggert, overdose."

"Let's say he _did _take one too many pills," Nick muses as he focuses on the road ahead. "How did he get ahold of drugs without a prescription?"

"Who said he asked for the prescription?" Natasha counters. "He was an employee of Duane Reade, a chain that gets supplies from FuturePharm." There's a pause. "Let's take this victim for example…" She grabs a file at random and checks for the cause of death. "High glucose levels, but they're diabetic."

"Lack of taking their medication. It's fairly common."

"She had three kids, Nick," the redhead continues. "Still married, lives in the city… She would want to keep herself alive for her family's sake."

"Glucose levels would beg to differ," Nick retorts.

Natasha watches her boss out of the corner of her eye. "Think of the placebo effect tests. Sugar pills replacing actual medication…" She stacks the papers and slides them back into their manila folder. "She was the unfortunate winner of FuturePharm's golden ticket."

"Are you accusing a global pharmaceutical company of playing a twisted Willy Wonka game?"

"Both Jack Taggert and a Mrs. Emilia Ortiz live in Jersey. What are the chances Jack dealt the drugs?" Natasha wagers.

"Suppose you're right," Fury assumes, "that still doesn't link the seven others."

"We should look into Hansen and Killian," Natasha finishes.

Nick shakes his head. "Unless you link the other victims, I won't do it. You've only deduced two, Romanoff, and your deductions felt too 'spur of the moment…'"

Natasha hastily returns her attention to the paperwork before her. Answers, answers, she needs answers. The missing pieces in this unfinished puzzle are practically staring her in the face. She leafs through the files and draws that of a Mr. Chad Davis, a postman in New York. There's one other New Yorker in the bunch, Eric Savin. "Suppose he delivers his mail," he mutters to herself. Back to her phone to check Facebook. Hansen and Killian's profiles state that they're living in New York. "Suppose Davis delivers mail to everyone here…" Natasha types in Savin's name and checks his profile in hopes of finding a link. Maybe it's another coincidence, but Killian's listed as a mutual friend. That's four victims connected to her suspected killers. "Savin was strangled," she recites as she double checks the file. "So was Davis. One lost the left lung, the other, the right," she observes. "Killian?" she asks herself. Ellen Brandt and Thaddeus Pascoe are the final two that she has the full details of. Pennsylvania and Connecticut, a missing liver and a missing kidney, death by dehydration and death by car crash. _The deaths._ Pascoe's car crash was a hit and run, Natasha reads to herself. A literal hit and run. The person responsible fled their car after the accident. They were driving a rental, according to the report. "Have you heard back on the rental car for the Pascoe case?"

"There was a dealer murdered," Nick explains. "Security footage showed a hooded figure shoot the guy, then flee the scene. Cops were sent to catch the murderer, but next thing you know, there's a hit and run first thing on a Monday morning."

Natasha moves on to consider Ellen Brandt's illness. She was hospitalized for an overdose of vitamin C. Natasha wonders if the prescription was purposefully butchered, thus linking her to her suspected targets.

A red light brings the car to a halt, allowing for Nick to steal a glance at his employee. "You're on to something," he notices.

"Killian and Hansen both have the medical knowledge we're looking for. We should run background checks."

"Seeing the victims has always given you a stronger lead," Nick reminds her. "Let's see what Obadiah Stane has to tell you…"

"Hopefully, answers." Natasha keeps herself busy by organizing Fury's reports by order of the killing. Ortiz is the first, Pascoe is the most recent.

"I trust you'll find what you need," Nick promises with a small smile.

Natasha shrugs. "You must be desperate if you're coming to me for this."

"You're the team's wild card, Natasha," he chuckles. "That reminds me, I have a meeting scheduled with a new recruit tomorrow. Care to join? He's involved with psychiatric profiling. He may become almost as valuable as you are."

Natasha straightens the stack of papers in her lap. "So he'll be a replacement?"

Nick senses the strong bitterness in her tone. "A colleague," he promises. "I was hoping he could confide in you about any cases. If he meets my standards, that is."

"I'm free in the morning. Might as well meet the guy if you expect us to play nicely." She turns her head to watch a line of evergreen trees rush by.

"He's an educated man, Natasha," Fury warns. "I wouldn't expect any idle nonsense coming from an Oxford man."

"Stark and his Harvard diploma would beg to differ," Natasha challenges with a smirk. Her boss begins to chuckle, but then the car falls quiet for the remainder of the drive.


	3. Blini

"Obadiah Stane." Steve Rogers announces as he raises a strand of yellow tape over his boss' hunched over form. "Thirty-six years old and dead for at least forty-eight hours." He continues to hold the tape up for Ms. Romanoff as she swiftly slinks under the caution line.

Natasha murmurs a soft thank you as Steve proceeds to guide them towards the body. As they walk, she runs her fingers along the pale yellow grass that reaches her hips. She spots a tall neon cone that's supporting the bright yellow tape caging them inside a big square. Off in the distance, red and blue lights are flashing. Trees are scattered farther back and mountains rest on the horizon. There's a home not too far from the crime scene with a neighboring white-capped silo.

"Romanoff has a decent lead that connects the killings," Nick mentions as he walks alongside Steve.

The blond turns his head and gives Natasha a shy smile. "This guy might throw you a curve ball. He stands out from the others we've seen thus far."

Natasha lifts her head, eager for the catch.

"He isn't missing an organ like the others were." Steve steps out from the tall grass and into a large patch of freshly trimmed grass. "He's missing a rib."

A man's naked corpse lies in the center of the field surrounded by several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Natasha can already spot a clean incision on his right side that follows the contour of the rib cage.

"Feels almost biblical," Nick mutters.

"'Biblical," Natasha repeats.

Bruce Banner is crouched over Obadiah's form and carefully peels back the flap of skin over the ribs. "Whoever's playing God has medical knowledge," he muses. "A surgeon, maybe."

"But definitely a psycho," Clint Barton adds after snapping a photo.

Natasha joins the group of men and stares down at the body.

"Would you like a moment alone?" Nick asks the redhead.

Her eyes are fixated on the man's right side. "He was the sacrificial lamb…"

Fury motions for Steve, Bruce, and Clint to step away. Natasha always prefers her space when the crime begins to unfold for her.

Natasha kneels down and shuts her eyes. The air around her stills and the scent of freshly mowed grass begins to fade as the pristinely cut grass shoots up around her. Natasha slowly opens her eyes and finds herself standing alone in a field of tall grass. She stares off into the blue sky and sees a living Obadiah Stane approach a local drug store's pharmacy.

She shuts her eyes and when she opens them, she finds herself standing before a grey countertop. A woman greets her with a friendly smile and asks how she can help. "I called in earlier," she begins. "I had a prescription filled for Obadiah Stane," she states.

"Right away, sir." The pharmacist nods and wanders over to her computer.

Natasha busies herself by reaching for a cheap tabloid that's on display while she waits. After a minute, the pharmacist returns with a white paper bag.

"It's already been paid for, sir," she announces. "If you can just sign here," she says, sliding a receipt in Natasha's direction.

Natasha nods and signs, then accepts her copy of the receipt as she takes the bag. As she makes her leave, she takes careful note of the receipt. It's dated two weeks before Stane's death. She then notes the name 'Jack Taggert' as the one to pay for the prescription.

"Stane and Taggert knew one another," Natasha announces.

The scenery around her shifts, and now, she's in a lot surrounded by used cars with bright paper signs on the windshields.

"Excuse me, sir," says a man in a suit. "We're not open yet." He steps closer to Natasha, only to stop as his eyes grow wide. In her hand is a loaded gun. She gives the man in the suit an empty stare as he reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. "This is my design," she murmurs as she pulls the trigger.

A piercing bang echoes and leaves her temporarily deaf. She squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them when she feels an icy gust against her face. She's back in the field of freshly cut grass, but she's all alone with the steadily rising sun. The wind continues to rustle the tall grass, but her ears pick up a discrepancy. She turns to the left and sees a dark silhouette marching into the field. It's some kind of horned animal, a ram, maybe, but it lacks a snout. The creature slowly looms closer, its curved horns lightly bobbing with the head's every move. Natasha continues to stand in place. The silhouette draws closer and Natasha begins to squint as the sunrise over the horizon begins to blind her. Finally, the animal is only a few feet away and Natasha steps off to the side to let it pass. It isn't until it emerges from the grass that Natasha realizes that it has fairly muscular arms and slender fingers. The figure turns to her, but all she can see is a haunting black silhouette. It turns away, then proceeds to strut past Natasha on two legs. She lowers her gaze and notices that the figure is dragging something behind him.

_Obadiah Stane._

Natasha holds her breath as Stane's unmoving form is dragged into the center of the field. The black figure hunches over the body and begins moving its arms. Natasha carefully observes what looks to be a horned man, completely naked, just like Stane, except Natasha can clearly make out Obadiah's eerily pale skin. The man hunched over the body is like a shadow. Natasha warily approaches and suddenly, the horned man turns to her, his face a midnight black. He holds out his hand to Natasha, an offering. Natasha opens her hand and watches as ebony fingers place a long yellowed arch into her waiting palm.

"The killer is calling out to someone," Natasha breathes.

"Or is he trying to say that the next victim is a woman?" Nick suggests aloud.

"Adam and Eve?" Clint muses. "You think the guy's a religious nut?"

"It's likely," Nick answers.

Natasha turns to acknowledge her boss. "Or he's looking for his partner in crime," she breathes. "His progeny."

"Obadiah still doesn't fit in with the others," Nick reminds her. "Do you suppose the killer of the previous victims was a woman and Stane's killer is a man calling out to her?"

"Stane killed the car dealer and drove the car that killed Pascoe," she states, eyes on the deceased's body.

Clint furrows his brows as he watches the special investigator at work. Unlike Tony Stark who thinks she's nuts, he believes that Natasha's… _gifted. _He's always believed in that soothsayer and psychic medium mumbo jumbo. And he still does. But he'd be lying if he said that what Natasha did didn't freak him out a little. She's unique.

"Stane knew Taggert. He's been connected with the killings from the beginning," she explains. "He was most likely roped into doing this by the man who murdered him…"

"You're certain a man killed him?" Fury asks.

Natasha reflects on the lean silhouette of the horned man. "Yes," she says after a pause. "But Stane's murder will be the last ones for now." Empty coal eyes are telling her so. "It's the end of this chapter." She imagines the smoothness of the freshly cleaned rib in her hand. "Chapter two will involve finding his apprentice…"

Nick frowns. "A woman, correct?"

Natasha eyes the slit along Stane's side. "God made Eve from Adam," she quietly muses.

"Alright!" Fury bellows in a commanding tone. "Let's have this body moved and taken in for further examination."

Fury's men nod and hurry off to inform the nearby medical team.

"Do you suppose this is the work of Aldrich Killian?" Nick asks Natasha once they're alone.

Natasha hums in reply. "Maya Hansen is looking to be pretty suspicious right now."

"I'll see what I can dig up on them," Fury promises. "Let's get you back home." He begins to walk towards the tall grass. He hears Natasha's light footsteps follow a moment later.

"Nick." He slows his pace as she wades her way into the tall grass. "I'd like to be involved with this case as it unfurls."

Nick stops and softly chuckles. "I'd be honoured to have you on the team."

Natasha looks straight ahead and as she walks, the image of the horned silhouette lingers in the back of her mind. She's aware that the vision is nightmare fuel, but she needs to know just what the Wendigo creature is supposed to mean…


	4. Pelmeni

Natasha comes into work two hours early upon her boss' request. She's curious to meet Fury's potential recruit. He's inviting her to help scope the guy out, and that makes her even more curious. All she knows is that the guy's intelligent and that he knows Fury. She imagines a man in his early to mid sixties, tall, and maybe with a beard. Natasha adjusts the strap of her messenger bag before knocking on Nick's door. A muffled 'come in' is heard, so she enters upon request.

"Agent Romanoff," Nick grins. He's wearing his usual fashion, a dark turtleneck with a black suit jacket.

"Am I late?" she asks. Her eyes focus on the man sitting before Fury's desk with his back turned to her.

"You're right on time," he says, patting her shoulder. "Dr. Laufeyson." As he says the name, the man in the seat rises and strides towards Natasha. "This is Natasha Romanoff."

Natasha remains unblinking as the stranger offers his hand to her. Usually, she's pretty good with profiling. This time, though, she's pegged the guy completely wrong. He's tall, for starters, and that's the only thing she got right. Natasha takes the man's cold hand and shakes it. The guy doesn't even look to be in his forties, maybe mid thirties, at most. There's also no beard, not even a hint of stubble.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Romanoff," he says with a silky English accent. He smiles widely and flashes his teeth for her.

The thin crow's feet at the corners of his green eyes tell Natasha that this guy's a big smiler. She's not sure what to make of that yet. She's not exactly looking for an overly perky partner. "Natasha," she answers him with a brief smile. "Nice to meet you, Doctor." She lowers her eyes and notices a hint of silver around his left wrist. No rings, though, just what is most likely a watch.

"Please, call me Loki," he replies, gently squeezing her hand before letting go.

Natasha nods and studies his strong jaw line and his head of shoulder-length raven hair that's neatly slicked back. She then eyes his grey suit and the silk emerald tie around his neck. The pants have prominent creases down his long legs, and his black shoes give off a freshly polished look. Natasha returns her eyes to his face and sees that he's eyeing her just as carefully as she's eying him. Unlike his designer-model attire, she's wearing a dark red blouse with a crease or two that she keeps hidden with an unbuttoned black jacket.

"You are Russian, yes?" he knowingly asks. "Any relation to the Romanov family?"

Loki softly chuckles and she pegs him as a serious, but good-humoured kind of guy. She can deal with that. "No, I'm not," she answers in a dull tone. If she has to work with the guy, then he needs to know right now that she's all business. "So how do you know Nick?"

"Mr. Fury was first to contact me," Loki divulges.

"How about a seat, you two?" Nick offers as he heads for his leather desk chair.

Loki pulls out a chair for Natasha before sitting down in the chair right next to hers.

Natasha sits and utters a quiet '_thank you_.' He's a natural gentleman-that's also something she can work with. Between Tony's refusal to being handed things and Clint's stash of comic books in his desk drawer, Fury's team needs more mature, well-mannered men.

"Natasha," Nick calmly begins, "Loki is here to help in your place. Given that you expressed an interest in joining the current case, however, he'll now be your partner."

"So." Natasha turns her head to Loki. "Have you seen the details on this string of murders?"

"Mr. Fury was just telling me," he nods.

"'Nick,'" Fury corrects from behind his desk.

"You're from England," the redhead continues. "What brings you over here?"

Loki chuckles as he admires her tenacity. "I visited New York when I was fourteen with my family. We all wished to see the Thanksgiving parade everyone raves about and see some Broadway shows. I haven't had a chance to return since, so I chose to indulge myself… After a brief trip to Rome," he adds with a grin.

"Why come back here after that?" Natasha prods.

"My brother, actually." He folds his hands in his lap as he relaxes in his chair. "He requested my company and he is all I have," Loki continues in a grave tone. "How long he wishes me to stay is unknown, so I found my own place, and then I sent in an application to this agency. I've always loved psychology courses. The human mind is fascinating."

"No forensic experience?"

"I've dabbled in medical courses, although, the arts are my true passion," he freely admits. "Traditional art, culinary art…"

Natasha slumps back in her chair. So the guy does it all. But just how well will he balance case work along with his hobbies?

"What sparked your interest in joining this field if you don't mind my asking." He watches Natasha with a genuine interest.

She believes it to be curiosity. "Let's just say fate drew me to it. If you believe in that," she snorts.

"I do, yes!" he replies with a sly grin. "And you teach, yes?"

Natasha side eyes her boss. "I thought you talked to him about the case," she states in a heavy tone.

"We had a long talk," Nick admonishes.

_And she was a key topic? _Natasha shifts back into her chair and folds her arms over her chest.

Loki glances between the two and senses a growing tension. "The case, yes," Loki says to break an awkward pause. "Missing organs-do you have any leads yet?"

"We do, yes," Nick nods.

Natasha purses her lips. Why didn't he bring that up this morning before she showed up? Fury wanted this guy brought in to help with the case. She watches Nick hand Loki the folder containing the victim's files. The victim found yesterday is at the top of the stack. She notices Loki give it a brief once over before sifting through the papers for the first victim. _Why start there if you already heard the whole story? _"How about that Taggert?" Natasha dryly comments.

Loki flashes her a brief glance before returning his attention to the papers. He finds Jack Taggert's file and begins to skim through it. "Are you inquiring about his death? The missing organ, perhaps?"

_Why doesn't he already know this? _She gives Fury a wary glare and she can sense odd vibes ebbing off of him. He won't even look at her. He just keeps his eye on Loki, but she knows that he knows she's growing suspicious… Years of working together have given them this special type of bond.

Then something clicks.

Loki isn't entirely here to oversee the case…

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Loki watching her, only to look away once he knows he's been caught. "He's here for me," Natasha breathes in disbelief.

Nick's fingers tightly lock together.

"You brought in some stranger to observe me?" Natasha bolts out of her chair, knocking it to the floor. "I don't need help, Nick!" she snaps at her boss.

"Natasha…" he calmly murmurs.

Loki sets the envelope back on the chief's desk so he can pick up Natasha's fallen chair. Despite being quiet, Natasha still notices and gives him a death threat with her eyes. "You know all about what I do, don't you?" she scoffs at the newcomer. "Did he tell you about how I came here without a birth certificate?!"

"Natasha!" Fury shouts.

She falls quiet and like a scolded child, she turns her head away.

"Your history is between you and I," Nick sternly warns. "Now please take a seat and let me explain."

"I'm so terribly sorry for causing this," Loki mumbles as he shuffles back to his seat.

Natasha remains standing, her eyes flickering over to her boss.

"Agent Romanoff is a very gifted asset," Nick begins. "Very bright-highest test scores I've seen in a long time."

Loki smiles and nods. "You've told me, yes." He turns his head towards Natasha. "The only other thing I know, Ms. Romanoff is that you have a unique way of empathizing. Nicholas took an interest in my psychology background and wishes to help you with this talent."

"I don't need help." Her body stiffens and she turns away.

"Stress in the field caused you to take a teaching position," Nick lectures. "I'd like for Dr. Laufeyson to be your confidant."

"My psychiatrist," Natasha corrects. Nick doesn't need to sugar coat it.

He narrows his eye at her as he continues to speak. "Stress was getting to you. Let Dr. Laufeyson help. Remind me again about your nightmares…"

Natasha clenches her jaw. Her complaints of sleepless nights had always bothered Nick, but she refused to seek out any further help.

"All sessions will be strictly confidential," Loki vows.

"And he can help with cases," Fury adds. "Who better to catch a psychopath than one who studies the mind?" A psychiatrist for Romanoff and a psychologist on the field. He's getting a two-for-one deal if Romanoff complies.

Natasha gives the men a silent, unbroken stare. She won't trust Loki, not even with an oath of confidentiality. Nick doesn't even know all of her secrets, and after having worked with the agency for just over five years, she trusts him the most. She partially feels obligated to-the man not only hired her, but he went all the way to Russia just to hear out her Red Room story. He knows her best.

Loki notes the longing stare of a child reaching out to their father in the redhead's eyes. Natasha is angry, scared… and he's the reason for her discomfort. "How would you two fancy dinner at my home?" Loki offers.

"That would be perfect," Nick replies with a smile. Natasha needs to get herself used to Loki's presence if he plans to stay. Finding her help has always been a struggle. She'll claim she doesn't need it, but he knows she does. He can't fight her, though. It will only drive her over the edge.

Natasha's ready to decline the offer, but she knows Nick will hold it over her head if she refuses to accept. He's most likely to force Loki drive her to the next crime scene…

"I will gladly prepare anything your heart desires," Loki swears to the woman. "Cooking has been a passion since I was a boy."

"Alright," Natasha agrees. "How about Italian?" She doesn't want overcomplicate things on his part, but she has a feeling this guy will go all out to impress his new co-workers. He probably knows some great places that deliver.

"You have a deal, Ms. Romanoff," he beams.

"If you don't mind, I have to prepare for a class," she announces. "Fury can let me know when we'll meet."

"Will tomorrow work?" Loki asks, eyes darting between the two.

"My evenings are free," Nick nods. He then turns to Natasha.

"Sure," she tells her potential partner. "Thank you, Loki," Natasha finishes before making her exit.

* * *

><p>The next time she spots Loki is when her work day is done. On her way out to the parking lot, she spots him right as he's getting into his car. He's managed front row parking, a feat that can only be done if one arrives early enough. Right off the bat, she's pegging him as a teacher's pet, but with his charming personality, he's sure to be one of those naturally humble people. One look at his sleek black Jaguar also tells Natasha that his salary is in the six digit range. She stops to watch as his car pulls out and carefully makes its leave. A good guy can still be meek.<p>

But everyone has a _little _darkness in them…

* * *

><p>Natasha navigates through a gated community as her phone's GPS guides her. Fury didn't need to forewarn her that the guy lived a good life when he called to give her the code to get inside Pleasantville. She figured that Loki was living the life within thirty seconds of meeting him. Natasha shuts off her phone's nagging drone when she spots Nick's SUV parked up a driveway lined with uniform hedges. She parks right beside her boss and grabs a plastic bag with pita chips and dip before bracing herself for the chilly night air. As she heads up a set of steps, she eyes the white two story house. For a seemingly single guy, it seems a bit much. He mentioned a brother, though, so she wonders if they're living together. It still seems a bit over the top, though…She rings the doorbell and stares past a tiny stained glass window to see a blurred silhouette approach.<p>

The door clicks and Loki greets her, all smiles. "Natasha, so glad you could make it! Let me take your coat for you."

She steps inside and feels her stomach growl as the scent of garlic and tomatoes welcome her. "Smells like you know what you're doing," she dryly comments as she hands him her bag of appetizers.

"Oh, thank you." He glances into the bag and notes the garlic parmesan chips. "Nicholas brought some wine that should go nicely with this."

"Thought it'd be polite to bring the host something." She eyes the apron tied around his waist. Maybe it's for show-to make it _look _like he's working hard when in reality, he's popping a premade frozen dinner into the oven. Natasha knows that game.

"That wasn't necessary, but thank you." He notices her struggle with an arm of her jacket, so he reaches out to help. His fingers barely graze the heavy fabric when Natasha chooses to act out.

She jerks her arm back, shooting the man a glare as she rips the coat away from her arms. "I can handle this."The jacket falls to the ground and she scowls. Natasha avoids his gaze as she kneels down to pick her jacket up.

"I'm sorry." Loki holds out his hand and eyes her dark coat.

Natasha shakes her head and hands him the heavy wool fabric. "Reflex thing…_"_

"Causing our host trouble, Natasha?" Nick says in a teasing manner as he enters the front hallway. He knows she's skittish around strangers-he even gave Loki a heads up before Natasha arrived. The last time a man put a hand on her was the same moment he nearly lost it. Natasha's death glare wasn't just for show. The woman had been trained in several types of martial arts and she's never been afraid to use those moves when threatened.

Loki chuckles and hangs her coat on a rack by the door. "Have I mentioned that you look lovely this evening, Natasha?"

"You haven't. Thank you." She smoothes down her skirt as Loki guides them into the living room.

"I'll get a bowl for these," Loki says as he gives Natasha's plastic bag a shake. "I have more hors d'oeuvres set out, so please help yourself. Would you like anything to drink?"

"I'll have what Nick brought." She sits down on the leather sofa and grabs a grape tomato from off of a veggie platter. "When did you get here?" she asks her boss once Loki's disappeared.

"About twenty minutes ago." He holds a wine glass that's only a third full to his lips. "I figured you'd arrive later," he chuckles.

"I'd feel awkward being left with a stranger," she replies. "His brother isn't here, is he?" she asks in a softer tone.

Nick shakes his head. "Hasn't said a word about him."

Natasha stands up and rather than admire the sixty-inch flat screen on the wall, she's drawn to the photos that hang over an adjacent armchair. She starts with one of an older couple, a woman with long golden hair proudly standing beside a man with snowy hair and a thick beard. The next picture is one of a slightly younger Loki standing beside the same woman in the first picture. He's wearing his black robes and an academic hat as he holds a diploma and grins like an idiot. The next photo features a very young Loki, no smiles, though. There's a little blond boy standing beside him and he seems happy, same for the couple standing behind them. The man with white hair in the first picture has fair, slicked back locks in this one. Of the four people in this photo, Loki's the only one not fitting in. Natasha inches closer, searching the woman's face for any traces of Loki.

"She is quite lovely, isn't she?"

Natasha turns and accepts a glass of wine from Loki. "Very."

"It's funny," Loki muses, "she isn't my birth mother, yet many seem to agree that we have the same smile."

Adopted. Natasha figured as much. "I see it," she agrees, mostly out of politeness. Loki has more pronounced dimples than she, but the subtle glisten in the eyes is similar.

"Tell me," Loki continues as he sets a bowl of chips and dip on the table. "Do you have any siblings, Natasha?"

"Just me," she answers before taking a sip of wine.

"You live alone, then?" Loki grabs a chip and swirls it around in the dip she brought.

"I have a cat if that counts as company." She rejoins the two men around the coffee table.

"Indignant little buggers they are," Loki laughs. "I can't help but want one of my own," he adds with a spreading smile. "I don't see my stay here as a permanent one, though. Perhaps when I finally settle down."

"You just got here and you're already thinking of packing back up?" Nick lightly questions.

"Not anytime soon!" Loki promises. "In a few years, perhaps."

"No 'special someone's' back in London?" Nick quips.

"I'm not quite ready for a relationship," Loki answers as he steals another chip. "Travel the world first, settle down later."

"That's a philosophy to live by," Nick says in agreement.

Natasha sips her wine as the old fools continue their chit chat. _Love…_

"You've grown awfully quiet, Natasha," Loki observes.

"I'm not a fan of the institution of marriage," she remarks as she crosses her legs. "Love in general doesn't sit well with me."

"You're as charming as Nicholas described you!" Loki jests.

"Good to know he thinks of me like that." For the first time that evening, she gives Loki a half-hearted smirk before downing the contents of her glass.

"May I ask how long you spent in Russia?" he wonders. That smile gave Loki a hint of hope that he nicked past her stone surface.

She rests her empty glass on a coaster. "Twenty-four years."

"Winters here must be nothing to you, then." A personal comment followed by a lighthearted one should help ease her into opening up.

"I hear London can get pretty brutal, too," she adds.

"Winter has always been my favourite season."

Natasha nods in agreement.

Loki then sets his own glass down before standing. "I'll finish up things in the kitchen. Dinner should only be a few minutes away."

"Do you need any help?" Nick offers.

"Nonsense," Loki smiles, "my guests are to relax."

"I think he'll grow on you," Nick whispers as Loki walks away.

"You're not right all the time, Nick," she snorts. "But if it will make you happy, then I'll work with him on this case."

"Thank you, Natasha." He offers her a small smile.

The two help themselves to chips and deviled eggs while they overhear their host's footsteps not too far away. "You think he's really a chef?"

"Maybe not a professional, but I believe the man can cook."

Loki returns moments later, but this time, there's no apron, to cover his white dress shirt and dark green vest. "Dinner is now served!" he proudly announces. His guests rise from the couch and he guides them into the dining room. "I would also like to add that I looked to Russia for some inspiration to tonight's dish." He hurries over to a table set with his finest china and pulls out the chair closest to the head of the table. "Ladies first." He then circles past his seat at the end of the table and pulls out a chair for Nick. "Tortellini alla Vodka will be our main course."

_How clever._ Natasha mentally rolls her eyes. She turns to her left to see all the empty chairs. The table can certainly fit eight people comfortably. Three just seems lonely.

"Sounds delicious." Nick takes a seat across from Natasha and sets his napkin on his lap.

"And to drink, I have a red wine that should go nicely." Loki turns around and opens a set of mahogany doors to reveal rows of wine aligned on several racks.

"Never invite Tony Stark here," Natasha warns as she sees him reach for a bottle. "He'll drink you dry."

"I will keep that in mind," Loki chuckles. He takes the desired bottle, pops it opens, and pours. "Let me get us started with appetizers."

"Full dinner service. I like this," Nick smiles.

Loki leaves, but is quick to return with a plate in each hand and another balanced on his forearm. He sets down Natasha's plate first, sliced mozzarella and tomatoes neatly lined up and drizzled with olive oil. "These tomatoes are locally grown, and the mozzarella is fresh from the same farmer."

"Thank you." Natasha readies her fork and knife as her boss is served.

Loki disappears one last time to let a basket of fresh garlic bread grace their end of the table. Finally, he sits and begins to dig in, starting with a bite-sized piece of cheese and tomato.

"I'll be here every night if you'll have me, Loki," Nick says after swallowing his first bite.

"Well," the younger man chuckles, "I would love your company!"

"It's delicious," Natasha agrees. "Looks like we're hiring you for the Christmas party." She hasn't had food that tasted this fresh in a while. Loki's definitely earning brownie points for his culinary skills tonight.

Loki's eyes brighten with interest. "I am very happy to hear that, Natasha." He serves dinner after the appetizer is done. "I've added some sausage with this for more spice," he adds as he sets a plate before the redhead. "Once again, I only use the freshest ingredients."

Her plate looks like something you'd get from a five star restaurant. The pasta is smothered with a rich red sauce topped with several slices of sausage and garnished with parsley. One bite is all she needs to convince her that Loki does in fact know what he's doing. The sauce is rich and creamy, the pasta is tender, and the meat's seasoning pleases her taste buds. She continues taking small bites of her meal so she doesn't look like a pig. "I didn't really believe you about the cooking," she admits. "But wow."

"Always a skeptic," Nick retorts. "I love the sausage. Best I've had!" he tells Loki.

"Ah, yes."

Natasha glances up when she notes the extra bit of silkiness in his voice.

"I have friends who provides me with only the finest," Loki comments. "And our bodies deserve the very best."

Natasha watches him take a bite of meat and for a brief second, his unsettling stare opens up a door from the past.

Loki chews, swallows, then returns his attention to Natasha. "Wouldn't you agree?" His voice sounds darker and under the light cascading down from the chandelier, the shadows play up the contours of his cheekbones and make his eyes appear darker.

Her fork and knife slip from her fingers and clatter against the linoleum. She can see the silhouetted face of one of the men in white slinking towards her.

"Natasha!" Nick slams his own utensils down and rushes to her side. He's only seen her have two previous episodes like this, but he's certain that she's experienced more in the privacy of her home. "Natasha," he whispers, kneeling at her side.

She grabs fistfuls of her hair and shakes her head as the man in her memory displays a syringe.

_"Medicine…"_

She takes a deep breath in through her mouth, then another, and finally exhales a shaky breath. _He's not there,_ she warns herself. The scent of Latex gloves and peroxide aren't helping her full stomach. She lurches forward and inhales, exhales, exhales…

"Deep breath, Natasha," Fury coaxes. This is exactly why she needs the help. She can't hold herself together on her own.

_You're not there anymore… _She breathes in through her nose and lets the pleasant smells help push the memories away. Her muscles begin to relax and she feels fine enough to sit up. Natasha slowly opens her eyes and finds her dinner plate glaring back at her. Her stomach churns and she lowers her head again. "Bathroom?" she breathes.

Loki bolts out of his chair as Natasha slowly rises from hers. "This way."

Natasha keeps her eyes on Loki's feet as he guides her down a hall, then past a corner, until he stops to open a door for her. She doesn't bother with taking in her surroundings. The door slams in Loki's face and she drops to her knees once she's near the toilet.

"Is she relapsing?" Loki questions as he rejoins Nick at the table. He sets a glass of water beside Natasha's plate.

"I've rarely seen it happen," Fury answers. "But I feel like it happens a lot…"

Loki returns to his own seat and absently stares straight ahead. "What do you suppose caused it?"

Nick is quiet as he collects his thoughts. "Last time was when we had a conference by the beach. I'm honestly not sure _what _caused the problem. One second, she was fine- she always seems fine, but that's all on the outside," he warns Loki. "Who she was this evening isn't her. I don't even think Natasha knows who she's supposed to be."

"Does this go back to her childhood?" Loki wonders. He's answered with a silent nod. "Is she on medication?"

"She nearly took out my eye when I first sought out help for her," Fury sighs. "That was when we first met. I swore I'd never mention it again."

"I would highly advise some kind of medication. This shouldn't go untreated," Loki lectures.

Nick shakes his head. "Unless you treat her like a dog and hide it in her food…"

Loki eyes her plate and observes that she's made a noticeable dent in the meal in addition to polishing off her appetizer. "Eating habits seem healthy enough, weight appears normal…"

Nick's pupil dilates as he stares in Loki's direction. "If you plan on drugging her food, then I want no part in this!" he hisses.

"It is for the best," Loki negotiates.

"Again, I'll have no part in this…She'll be out of the country the second she catches on!"

"Sheltering her is a crime, Nicholas," Loki threatens in a heavy drawl.

"I've heard stories of her past and it's not something I'd wish on my closest enemy." Natasha needs the help, though. The demons from her past seem to only be alive in her memory. Still, medication strikes a nerve in her. He thinks back to what the Russian woman had told him about the daily drugging. Romanoff doesn't even bother with pills to stop a headache. He's snooped around her bathroom-nothing but makeup and toiletries. "Before anything proceeds," he hesitates, "I'd like to look over your patient history."

"I've already told you during our phone conversation that that is strictly confidential."

"You said you helped a woman like Natasha," he reminds Loki.

"Hardly." The man's emerald eyes narrow. "Natasha seems to be in worse condition than she."

Natasha returns moments later and the room is dead silent. They were discussing her, she can feel it. She sits and has a few sips of water before rising from her seat. "I should go."

"I wouldn't recommend driving," Loki urges. "Your stomach…"

Natasha narrows her eyes. "I panicked. It's over now, I can drive."

"Natasha." Nick gives her a stern stare.

"I'll pull over if I need to puke. I really just want to go home," she breathes.

Loki walks her to the door and returns her coat.

"Thanks," Natasha mutters as she snatches it away. Coat in hand, she leaves the house and welcomes the stinging cold as she hurries to her car.


	5. Borsht

Natasha sits at her desk, finishing up with grading a pop quiz she gave her class a week ago. The dinner last night is just another bad dream that she's pushed to the back of her mind. Thank God for unfinished grading to keep her brain busy. She has at least another hour until she needs to take the ten minute walk down to the university. For now, she's content with killing time at the work station Nick provided her with when she first joined his team. As she works, she hears Stark burst into the office with Bruce Banner in tow.

"The guy's a little too McDreamy, you know?" Tony drawls.

Bruce chuckles as he shuffles alongside his partner. "I think you're just intimidated by the accent."

Natasha makes a red 'X' over a student's wrong answer. _Looks like someone met the new guy…_ She keeps herself half-focused on the test paper before her. Gossiping has never been her thing, but eavesdropping is.

"Hey, Romanoff!" Tony knocks on the outer wall of her cubicle as he pokes his head in. "One-Eyed Nick wants you."

She turns in her chair and gives Stark a disgruntled glare. "Should I start addressing you as 'Billionaire Asshole?'"

"Already a nickname." He keeps a poker face and eyes the redhead through his sunglasses. "Good try, though."

Natasha turns to Bruce as he covers his face with his hand as he adjusts his glasses. Behind that hand, she knows he's covering up a wide grin. "Is Loki with him?"

"'Loki,'" Tony snorts. "He must've had it great in school."

"He was there, yes," Bruce politely answers with a nod. "We just met him."

"Tell him I'm busy." Natasha turns back around to face her desk. Alone in Fury's office with Loki is the last place she wants to be. She assumes Nick only wants her so Loki can apologise about the dinner incident.

"Duty calls," Tony interrupts. "He says he's got info on a Killian guy."

Natasha clicks her pen and sets it in a mesh cup with its friends.

"Does this concern the murder streak we've been working on?" Bruce wonders.

Natasha grabs her coat from the back of her chair and nods. "He's suspect number one."

"And Dr. Laufeyson," he adds, "he's here for the case?"

Natasha is silent as she buttons her black peacoat. "Yeah," she answers as she grabs her ratty messenger bag. _Amongst other things… _ Natasha leads the way out of the employee's office space. Fury's office is a short trip down a paved path scattered with orange and red leaves.

"I think he's getting the cubicle near mine," Bruce muses. "There're a few spare ones my way."

Bruce's work space is on the opposite end of the room and furthest from Natasha's. She can only hope that Loki keeps his distance. The only one Natasha allows to her cubicle for idle chit chat is Clint. He usually rambles so it's safe to ignore him and throw in an occasional nod and 'oh yeah?' but sometimes, he talks work with her. That's when he always has her full attention.

"He can always switch with me," Tony announces. "Don't you wanna be my office buddy?" He laughs and throws an arm over Bruce's shoulders.

"I think I see you enough in the lab," Bruce chuckles with a sheepish smile.

Tony seems to shrug off his coworker's comment. "Fine. You two can bond over tea and _Downton Abbey_."

Natasha picks up the pace so she can get away from the 'Science Bros.' as people like to call them. She lets a machine at the door identify her ID before she's allowed in. Natasha enters the building and lets the door swing shut behind her. Tony makes a mad grab for the handle right as the lock clicks into place. Unfortunately for Bruce, Stark deserves having a door shut in his face. She makes her way to Fury's office and sure enough, Loki is there, seated before her boss' desk with a small crate in his arms.

"Morning, Natasha." Nick greets her with the usual mix of annoyance and tiredness in his voice.

"What've you got for me?" she asks.

Loki eyes her as she stands at attention in the doorway. Last he saw her, she was white as a sheet. He's relieved to see the colour back in her cheeks and determination in her eyes.

Nick holds up a flash drive and outstretches his arm in Natasha's direction. "Watch the file named 'Killian," he announces as Natasha comes forward to accept the piece of plastic. "Video proof that Killian met with Taggert."

"No audio?" she asks.

Fury shakes his head. "But this security footage was taken a week before Stane's death. Watch closely and you'll see Killian hand over something."

"When do we confront him?" Natasha asks with a raised brow.

"What time do your classes end today?"

Natasha tightens her grip around the tiny thumb drive. "I'll cancel."

"We'll also need to bring up Maya Hansesn, AKA, his partner in crime," Nick continues. "Banner and Stark discovered that the bodies had been dead for a good five to six hours before the organs were removed."

"You assume that one was a killer while the other the surgeon?" Loki interrupts.

"Killian and Hansen must not operate close to each other. One could be finishing the other's job."

"Or transportation," Natasha chimes in. "Kill, then take the body to remove the organ in a more secure place…" She recalls her vision from Stane's murder scene. The mysterious Wendigo performed his surgery right where the body lay… "You think this guy will give us answers?"

"You tell him your theory for how these murders connect, and I'll bet you anything that we'll get this guy to talk!" Fury sternly answers.

Loki rubs his chin as he watches Natasha in the corner of his eye. "May I join the two of you? I am quite curious to see how this unfolds."

"Would you like for Mr. Stark and Mr. Banner to show you your work space first?" Nick wagers.

"I heard my name," Tony says as he struts into the office.

"I'll wait," Loki smiles. "I am in no rush to move in."

"Your box of stuff begs to differ," Natasha points out.

Loki stares down at his crate of books, papers, and office supplies and chuckles. "A quick visit to drop this off shouldn't hurt. Would you care to join us, Natasha?"

"We'll catch up later," she promises.

"Very well." Loki picks up his small crate of belongings and lets Tony lead the way.

Natasha takes a seat before Nick's desk as the door closes. She watches Nick watching her and they hold one another's stare for a solid minute before the silence feels too deafening. "I'm fine, Nick. Better than ever," she promises.

"I wasn't thinking that," he mumbles as he moves his attention to the unsorted papers on his desk. "I was thinking about Dr. Laufeyson tagging along with us today."

"I don't plan on talking to him unless it pertains to the case," Natasha promises.

"That's what I'm concerned about," he drones as he overlooks Banner and Stark's forensic report. "It won't kill you to chit chat."

"It takes a toll on me," Natasha remarks as she folds her arms.

Nick's eye meets her face. "Sassiness can only get you so far, Natasha," he warns.

Natasha doesn't bother to acknowledge the truth to her boss' statement. Her overplayed levels of snark feel like a safe cover to hide behind. God knows she needs to keep up the façade of acting the least bit human. Her true inner self feels as dead as Obadiah and company. "I know." She pulls out her phone and starts sending out a rare 'class cancelled' e-mail.

"You get Banner's forensic report?"

"Yes," Natasha drones.

Nick silently works at his desk until his office door opens moments later.

"I made sure to be quick," Loki announces as he closes the door behind him. "Where can we find this Aldrich Killian?"

"He's in the city," Nick explains. "Not too far away."

"I'll drive," Loki offers.

Nick nods in reply before grabbing his phone and keys.

Natasha follows the men out to Loki's black Jaguar, the flash drive buried in her clenched fist.

Loki opens the front passenger door and glances in Natasha's direction. She turns her head and Nick moves in and slides into the seat.

Natasha makes her way to the passenger's seat behind the driver and opens the door for herself. She buckles up and opens her bag to grab her tablet. The flash drive gets plugged into its slot and Natasha taps her finger against the screen to open the file.

Loki shuts himself in the car and steals a glance at Natasha through the rearview mirror. Her eyes are glued to the screen and he wonders if she even heard him start the car's engine. The radio softly plays as his car roars to life but Natasha doesn't budge. Nick had told him about her strong focus, but as an added courtesy, he chooses to turn the radio off.

The last thing Natasha senses before the video clip loads is the car backing up. She holds her breath as a bird's eye view of a pharmacy counter sets the scene. The back of what she assumes to be Killian's head approaches the counter.

He stands still as he waits for the brunette on duty to assist him. There's a pause, followed by the female clerk's lips moving. She hurries away and a new employee, Jack Taggert, approaches. The footage remains still except for Killian's left hand rustling in his pocket. Natasha can't see what he's reaching for since only the back right portion of his body is visible. She then notices a white paper bag being slid across the counter, followed by a rolled up wad of cash. After shifting his eyes back and forth, Taggert accepts the offering and slides it under the countertop and out of view. The clip soon ends with Killian waving and turning on his heel to make his leave. Natasha watches the clip once more before she brings her attention to her boss. "He was handing over the drugs intended for Stane. I'd bet my life on it."

"I agree," Loki states.

Natasha glowers into the rearview mirror as Loki's eyes focus on the road ahead. She wasn't asking for anyone's opinions, let alone _his. _Natasha removes the USB and packs it into her messenger bag along with her tablet. Her attention then shifts to the window where buildings and leafless trees blur past her.

"Such a shame that a prosperous company's reputation will be soiled over this tragedy," Loki muses.

"Just this one branch," Fury replies. "But who knows, people might start to fear FuturePharm's name in general."

"Nothing beats widespread paranoia," Loki jokes. "As if the need to kill is contagious…" He slows the car as he approaches a nearby gas station. "Would anyone like some coffee while I fill up?" he offers.

"Please," Natasha answers. She knows there's a long day ahead and she was up later than intended. Thankfully work had kept her mind occupied instead of her dinner episode.

"Make it two." Nick reaches beneath his heavy coat for his wallet, but Loki has stopped the car and is already out before he can hand him a five.

"Any news on Maya Hansen?" Natasha wonders as the view outside of her window is now Loki leaning forward to unscrew the gas cap.

Nick keeps his gaze straight ahead. "We'll get Killian to tell us. I just filed to get their personal info sent to us."

The car falls silent, but Natasha overhears Loki humming to himself outside. It sounds like Tchaikovsky's Sugar Plum Fairy and she can't help but wonder if he's using the tune to grab her attention. She keeps her eyes fixed to the back of the driver's seat and keeps perfectly still as Loki starts a pattern of pressing and releasing on the gas pump. Loki comes into her view as he struts past the front of his car to enter the station's convenience store. She closes her eyes and feels the chilled air mingle with the stench of gasoline.

"He invited me back for dinner next weekend," Nick says aloud. "He mentioned you tagging along, too."

Natasha's head falls against the back of her seat. "Even after I hurled in his toilet?"

"He said it was a shame you missed dessert."

Natasha shrugs and cranes her neck towards the opposite window. "I'll think about it." Loki enters the tiny shop and after mentally counting ninety-three Mississippi's, he emerges with three cups of coffee kept safe in a cardboard carrier.

Nick offers Loki a five as he gets into the car, but he politely declines it. Loki settles into his seat before passing a cup back to Natasha. "One for Ms. Romanoff."

Natasha accepts the drink, along with two packets of sugar. "Thanks."

"No cream?" Loki wonders, turning to her with a stirring stick between his fingers.

"I drink it black." She snatches the wooden stick and pops off her cup's lid. Natasha adds her sugar and gives her hot drink a quick stir as the car starts back up. She holds off on drinking until the car is smoothly gliding down the road.

The trio approaches the local FuturePharm headquarters forty minutes later. As they step past a revolving door, Natasha strays to find the bathroom while Nick and Loki greet the receptionist on duty.

"Mr. Killian is very busy," the gentleman at the desk begins.

Nick whips out his FBI badge and that seems to change the man's mind.

"Right this way, sir," he corrects, bowing his head.

"One moment," Loki hastily adds. "We are waiting on one more." He turns to Nick, his brows raised in worry. "You don't suppose-"

Nick shakes his head and raises a hand to the doctor. "She's fine."

Natasha returns a moment later and she notices the lines across Loki's forehead wane as a smile forms. "Something happen?" she asks.

"I was a tad worried," Loki admits with a chuckle.

The receptionist guides them to an elevator and the four step in and travel up to the ninth floor.

"You are feeling better, yes?" Loki murmurs as he stands uncomfortably close to the redhead.

Whether he's referring to last night or her brisk bathroom break, she answers with an honest "yes" as she takes a step to the side.

"I would love to have you over for dinner again," Loki continues. "Or breakfast-which meal do you prefer?"

As of right now, every meal of the day becomes unappealing, but Natasha holds her tongue and thanks the soft _ding _of the elevator that follows the twin doors easing open.

The receptionist leads them down a short and narrow hall before knocking at the lone set of doors. "Mr. Killian, you have visitors!"

"Come in!" a voice beckons.

Killian's employee opens one of the doors and Nick is first to step into the sunlit office.

"Hello there." Killian rises from his desk chair as his three guests enter. "What can I do for you?" He steps away from the bay windows that let the early afternoon sun filter in.

"Nick Fury, FBI," S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director states. He approaches Killian and shows his ID before accepting Aldrich's handshake. The door behind them closes and Nick shoves his ID badge into his jacket pocket. "I'm here on account of a string of murders."

"'Murders?'" the blond parrots. "How about we all take a seat?" He runs a hand through his already slicked back hair as he returns to his place behind his desk.

Two chairs sit before the desk. Natasha steals one while the men insist on standing.

"We can handle this the easy way," Nick warns, his good eye glaring daggers at the CEO "or the hard way."

Natasha rummages through her bag and sticks the flash drive back into her tablet.

"If you've been keeping up with the news, then you're aware of a local serial killer," Nick gravely continues. Killian keeps up his best poker face as he relaxes in his chair. "I know Jack Taggert must be a familiar name to you."

"Doesn't ring a bell," he hums, crossing his legs.

"Maybe his face will." Natasha holds up her tablet as the video clip plays. "Care to tell us what you're sneaking to him?"

"I needed to refill my prescription," he coolly replies.

"Bag and all?" Natasha interrogates. "And paying with a wad of cash? No credit?"

"I always keep cash on hand."

"Mr. Killian," Nick warns in a deep tone. "We'll need to take you in for further questioning."

"Over a brief clip that tells you nothing?" Aldrich prods. "One that you have no clarity on whatsoever?"

"Doesn't that make you seem a little more suspicious?" Fury notes. "Come with us now and your reputation just might be spared."

"If I am the killer you think I am, then I'd like some more proof outside of your video…"

Nick turns to Natasha and nods. Time for her to unleash her theories and give Killian a run for his money…

"Should I start with the recently deceased Obadiah Stane?" she questions, flashing Aldrich a pleased grin. "You gave Jack Taggert the drugs you wanted slipped into his prescription. Taggert's also been defiling prescriptions under your command. Blackmail?" she assumes, raising a brow. "Stane is also one of your henchmen," Natasha continues. "You sent him to pick up the drugs from Taggert-you had a very specific person that you wanted him to target, didn't you?" she presses. Killian's mouth is a thin line as he watches Natasha with a look of what she deems as admiration. "Late last night, I received Stane's forensic report."

She takes herself back to the previous night after a long soak in her steaming tub. With hair dripping wet and drops of water pattering against the floor as she walks down a cold hallway, she flips on her bedroom light and sits before the bright glow of her laptop. She notices a line of bold text at the very top of her list of e-mails. 'Forensic, Stane' it's called, sent in by Bruce Banner twenty-two minutes ago.

"A dose of heroin ended him," Natasha explains. "A puncture was found on his right side, but that's not all that killed him."

Loki's eyes flicker between Aldrich and Natasha. Both seem to be quite collected as they discuss the murder.

"Broken hyoid bone and hemorrhaging," Natasha concludes. "A strangling, but no evidence was left under his nails…Was it you or Maya Hansen that murdered him?"

Killian's poker face is lost as he furrows his brows.

"She's involved, too, isn't she?"

He falls silent.

"Better speak up," Fury advises in a low voice. "And don't count on Taggert to bail you out of this-he OD'ed. Probably couldn't live with himself anymore. What were you holding over him?"

"And the missing organs-what about them?" Natasha prods. It's then that Killian's calm demeanor shatters as genuine confusion enters his eyes. "And the rib…"

"Well," Killian breathes with a smile forming across his lips. "That part certainly wasn't my doing."

"So you admit to committing murder?" Nick demands.

The blond laughs as though Nick has just brought up an inside joke. "No," he promises, shaking his head. "_I'm _being blackmailed, too."

Nick warily reaches for the phone in his pocket.

"Maya Hansen's been 'missing' for several months now," Aldrich clarifies. "Keyword being 'missing.'"

"Then who's blackmailing you?" Natasha icily asks as she rises from her seat. "And why?"

"Let's just say he's a man who knows of my past wrongdoings… But I must say, miss, you theory was quite convincing!" he informs Natasha.

Nick begins to input a number, but Killian interrupts. "No need to call the cops, sir," he promises. "The man you want is already atoning for his crimes…"

Natasha looks to Nick right as he turns to her while Loki chuckles to himself. "You mean to say that _he_ is the one pulling the strings?" Loki asks with interest.

"And from the safety of his own cell," Killian adds.

"And his name?" Nick demands.

"Trevor Slatterly," Aldrich states. "He shares an address with the local penitentiary."


	6. Kulebyaka

Natasha inches towards her boss as his thumb frantically pounds against his phone's screen. Killian's confession came as a major curve ball, especially for Natasha. She had been so certain. False accusations were rare for her… There's a chill in the air and Natasha turns her chin as midnight black fingers creep across her shoulder. The shadowed figure with horns protruding from its skull flashes a set of perfectly white teeth, the only feature she can properly make out. _Slatterly? _

"Natasha?" Nick's fingers tighten around his phone when he notices a distant look in the redhead's eyes. She slowly lifts her head in his direction and he relaxes when she acknowledges him with an arched brow. "I need you and Loki on Slatterly," he orders. "Mr. Killian and I need to have a long talk," he drawls, shifting his gaze to the blond calmly sitting behind his desk. "One that may involve the neighborhood authorities…"

"Very well," Loki nods. He turns to Natasha and finds that she doesn't seem too keen on the idea of partnering with him, not that he's surprised. "Shall we, Natasha?"

She uncrosses her arms to adjust her bag's strap across her shoulder. "Yeah." _This is all business, Romanoff, _she tells herself. She whips out her phone and does a quick search of nearby prison listings. "This one's twelve miles away. Butler Correctional Facility?"

"That's the one," Aldrich replies.

"Let's get going." Natasha pulls up directions and briskly moves towards the door.

"No need to rush," Killian teases as she reaches the door. "He isn't going anywhere."

Natasha groans under her breath as she leaves the room with Loki in tow.

"Have you ever heard of Trevor Slatterly?" Loki wonders as they approach the elevator.

"He's schizophrenic," she answers. "Locked up for murdering eight people in a restaurant, then claiming he didn't know why he had a gun in his hands."

"His case is older than you, correct?" Loki guesses. The elevator door opens and he lets her enter first.

"Wasn't it eighty or eighty-one?" she muses. "So not by much." She presses her back against the wall and watches a screen above a set of buttons that goes from seven, to six…

"You're quite a young thing," Loki chuckles. "Have you even reached thirty yet?"

Five…Four… "A woman doesn't reveal her age." He continues his annoyingly cheerful laugh and she shoots him a glare. She wasn't telling a joke, but Mr. Fun-and-Games is too blind to know that. The counter soon hits one and Natasha is first out of the elevator.

"Natasha?" He keeps his distance for her benefit, but not once do his eyes leave her fiery hair. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me about yourself? Favourite colour, perhaps?" he prods.

She stops and turns her head back just enough to catch a glimpse of his face in her peripheral vision. "I prefer being left alone."

"How about you pretend that I am your boss. Just for this afternoon," Loki suggests.

"Is this some psychoanalysis?" she scowls. Natasha looks ahead and continues her path to the revolving door.

Loki's mouth forms a thin hard line as he follows. Nicholas knows she needs help, and he's aware that it will take a miracle, but he firmly believes that she will receive the help she needs in due time. As for Loki, he's always loved puzzles, and Natasha is turning out to be quite a challenge. Childhood trauma is always a difficult matter, but she can be helped with proper counsel and medication. "Nonsense." Loki picks up the pace until he is right beside her. Their steps sync up almost immediately. "I only wish to get you to communicate with me."

She slips into the revolving door and is greeted with a gust of cold air as she becomes reunited with the outside. "Sorry, _Doc, _but I can't really trust you on that." She stops as Loki makes his way past the glass door. "Didn't Nick hire you especially for me?" She stuffs her hands deep into her side pockets.

"I will put this case first, if you like," he offers.

"And when this case is over?" She carefully watches him with a raised brow.

"Well." He cracks a sideways smile. "I should hope that this case will be the first of many, Agent."

Natasha gives the man a hard stare as men in suits, tourists, and joggers go about their daily routines around them. "Strictly business."

"Is that not what you are all about?" Loki jests.

"No more jokes." Natasha offers him her right hand. "You work with me as a serious partner, not as a friend."

Loki glances down at her slender fingers. Her nails are newly trimmed and have a slight shine from a fresh coat of gloss. "One more thing." His eyes meet with hers. "May partners share an occasional meal?"

Natasha rubs her lips together for a quick second. "Saturdays," she agrees. "Given I'm not busy."

"Excellent!" Loki eagerly accepts her handshake. "Having a love for cooking, but no one to share with can be cruel. Do you have any allergies?" he wonders as they make their way towards his car parked at the curb.

"No." If she did, she would've gladly told him just so she'd eat one of his fifty-different-ingredient-culinary-masterpieces and have a proper reason to spite him. "I'll eat just about anything. Just warn me if it's cow guts or something."

"You would be amazed by the flavours!" he playfully warns. Loki unlocks the car, then makes his way over to the driver's side to open the back door for Natasha. To his surprise, she's decided to take the front passenger's seat this time.

"At the second light, you're making a right," Natasha dictates before Loki can properly settle into his own seat.

"Tell me, Natasha." His seatbelt clicks into place. "Do you feel defeated knowing that your Killian theory was wrong?"

Natasha slumps back in her seat, eyes on the directions that her phone has given her. "Threw me off," she mumbles.

Loki's car roars to life with the turn of a key. "You seemed quite sure of yourself. Was it a…vision that you saw?" He gives her a quick glance.

"Second light, make a right," she repeats.

Stubborn is an understatement for this woman. Nonetheless, Loki heeds her directions like the natural-born gentlemen that he is.

The first light approaches and flickers to yellow as the car nears. Loki slows down just as it darkens to red. Natasha decides to take advantage of her time with the good doctor to give him a taste of his own medicine. "You mentioned coming here to stay with your brother." She observes his knuckles whitening as his fingers grasp the steering wheel. "Where was he last night?"

"God only knows," Loki answers with a bitter taste in his mouth. "We don't quite see eye to eye anymore. I get as much out of him as I do from you."

"Then why come overseas for him?"

The light turns green and Loki pauses as he guides a line of traffic down a desolate road. "He needs help. After our parents died, he took to drinking which started getting him into trouble. He needs me," he adds. "And he is slowly coming around, bless him. Maybe one day I will even have him for dinner with you and Nicholas." The corners of his lips begin to rise.

"What's his name?"

"'Thor,'" he chuckles. "My Mother was quite fond of mythology."

_Thor Laufeyson… _Natasha makes a mental note to further investigate Loki's family matters on her own time.

Loki easily reads the woman's intentions. Luckily, she won't get far searching under the Laufeyson name. If she's dedicated enough, then she can discover his adopted family's surname on her own.

"You were adopted as a baby?"

"I was, yes." He drives past a green light and turns right.

"Keep going straight up this road." Natasha stares at her phone and for a moment, she envies Loki's luxury of a family. She's travelled down that road of _'what ifs' _before and it always turns into a heartwarming TV movie that makes her want to puke over how corny her imagination can get. Then she reminds herself that she has a decent job and her own apartment. Given that she did have parents, they'd probably end up spoiling her to the point that she'd never find the will to move out and have her own life.

Loki fears her silence and chooses to ask a question that shouldn't bring up any red flags. "You said you owned a cat," he casually mentions. "What is her name?"

"His name's Liho." Her eyes catch an upcoming street sign. "Next street up make a left."

"Is he friendly?" He eases the car into the proper lane.

"He mostly does his own thing," she shrugs. "But he's a good boy."

Loki hints a subtle maternal tone in her voice. He can't blame her for speaking so tenderly towards an animal. It feels only human to do so.

"It's half a mile up this road," Natasha announces as they make a turn.

"Would you like to stop for lunch after business is finished?" he offers.

Natasha is quick to decline. "I'm not hungry." She isn't lying, either. Given that her stomach does choose to rebel later on, she can wait until she's home to whip something up.

"Well, feel free to tell me if you change your mind." There's a plain wooden sign to the left engraved with the bold title, **Butler Correctional Facility. **Loki drives past a towering fence laced with barbed wire until he reaches a small booth at the gate's entrance. Natasha holds up her FBI badge and the gate is opened for them with no further questions. There's a bare parking lot to the far right and Loki snags a front row spot overlooking a grassy field.

The two leave the car and head for a stone gray building with no visible windows and a metal sign reading 'Entrance' along the side. "Have you ever been to one of these?" Natasha asks as she hugs her coat close to her chest.

"I have, yes." Loki keeps his hands stuffed deep into the side pockets of his dark pea coat. "Analysing patients." He frees his hand in time to grab the door's icy handle before stepping aside and pulling it open for Natasha.

"Let me do the talking, okay?" Natasha mentions as she struts past him.

"Butler Correctional Facility," an older woman drones from behind her desk.

"Natasha Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D. FBI," she recites, holding up her badge as she's done hundreds of times before. "I'm here to speak with a Trevor Slatterly."

The woman removes a pen from behind her ear and reaches for an address book. She flips through several pages before reaching for a phone's receiver and punching in a set of numbers. "I need security at the main building, then Block A's men on duty to take Mr. Slatterly to the interrogation room." There's a brief pause before she nods and hangs up the receiver. "Mr. Slatterly can only see one guest at a time," she notes, glancing between the two guests .

"Perfect," Natasha answers. "My partner can wait."

Loki smirks at her willfulness.

"I also need signatures for the two of you." She stretches her arm and taps her pen against a blank sign in sheet.

Natasha signs first, then accepts a blank sticker from the receptionist. She jots down her name and places the label over her left breast. By the time Loki has finished signing in and labeling himself, a young man dressed in white has entered the lobby to greet them.

"Mr. Slatterly is being prepared for you," he announces. "Follow me."

They leave the reception room and are escorted outside down a paved path tucked in between freshly mowed grass that adds a splash of colour to the otherwise bleak setting. Loki occupies himself by admiring the bright yellow leaves that cover thin, wiry branches of the short trees decorating the courtyard.

Natasha wishes she can have Loki's carefree leisure, but her eyes are glued to the back of the officer in white. The daunting colour takes her mind to the place she works so hard to close off. Suddenly the distance between her and the officer stretches from inches to yards and her surroundings go dark. She can feel her legs moving, but she's fallen so far behind. And then the man's shadowed face turns to her. His lips delicately part and Natasha knows what's coming.

_'Have you taken your medicine, Natalia?'_

A frightened gasp snaps Loki's attention to Natasha. She's frozen in place, dilated pupils staring straight ahead. "Natasha," he says calmly.

Her lower lip quivers as the man in her mind mouths her name.

"Natasha?"

"N…" Her hands ball up into fists at her side.

The officer guiding the two agents turns to Loki with a concerned look. "Should I call for help?"

Loki shakes his head and quickly takes a step in front of Natasha. "You are at the Butler Correctional Facility," he recites in a calm manner.

She manages a series of rapid blinks and the black void begins to let up.

"It is 12:07 pm," Loki continues.

She exhales, then takes a shallow breath in. Her racing heart slows to a steady beat and her eyes work to fight past the Gaussian blur that hinders her vision.

"Natasha Romanoff."

She can feel her muscles relax as she takes another deep breath. A set of intent green eyes become crystal clear to her and she becomes aware of her surroundings. "I'm okay," she weakly says.

"Now where are you?" Loki asks, his gaze fixed on his own reflection in her eyes.

"Butler Correctional Facility." Natasha turns her head to break the intense contact. She takes a careful step to the side to acknowledge their guide. "Low blood sugar," she lies, "can we continue?" He nods, and the three resume their walk down to Block A.

"Would you rather I do the talking?" Loki offers in a whisper.

"I've got this," she agitatedly scowls. _As if he believes her. What luck to nearly have another episode with him… _"Trust me."

Loki chooses to not further aggravate her with any more questions. He can always question Fury about her episodes later in private.

"Ma'am." The escort opens a heavy steel door for the redhead and steps aside to allow her to breeze past him. "Mr. Slatterly will be here shortly," he adds as he kicks down a wedge to keep the door propped open. "Please have a seat."

"Thank you." The room is windowless and tiny, maybe a tad bigger than her bathroom. Natasha sits down on a foldable chair and pulls her phone out of her pocket so she doesn't start counting the concrete blocks that make up the room's four bleak walls. There's no service, but she expected as much. All she needs of her phone is the recording feature.

Loki keeps his back pressed against the wall directly across from the door to the interrogation room. He can just barely make out a hint of red curls as Natasha waits, still as a statue.

The faint jingling of echoing chains forces Natasha to rest her phone in her lap. Heavy footsteps draw closer, accompanied by some grunts and mumbles. She keeps her eyes forward, listening intently as the sound of dragging chains becomes more pronounced.

"I never even got my coffee," a voice grumbles.

Natasha keeps her eyes low as a man wearing an orange jumpsuit enters. The short chains tied to the manacles around his ankles make his steps slow and careful.

"You'll get it later, Mr. Slatterly," an officer assures.

Natasha focuses on the slate tabletop and watches as two officers lock Slatterly's handcuffs to a built in hook at the center of the table.

"Ma'am." An officer reaches out to hand Natasha a tiny remote. "If you need us, push the button at the top right."

Natasha nods and accepts the remote, eying the top button with 'INT' beside it in a white font. She sets it aside as the officers leave and the door clicks shut behind them. Her eyes are fixed on her phone's screen to ensure that it's recording Slatterly's upcoming confession.

"Alright, deary," the convict drawls. "Let's make this quick."

Natasha looks up and gives the older man a good once-over. His thick, dark hair is heavily flecked with greys. He keeps it tied back in a tight ponytail, but his scraggily beard contradicts his hair's neatness. The jumpsuit he wears is clean and smells like cheap soap. Her eyes lower to scan his laced fingers with nails trimmed down to the quick.

"Don't tell me you came just to gawk." The lines across his forehead become more prominent as he frowns.

Natasha flashes him her signature glare of disapproval. "And what if I did?" she asks with a raised brow. "You're not busy."

He shrugs his shoulders and slumps back in his chair, but the handcuffs aren't very forgiving and force his arms to stretch across the table.

"Aldrich Killian threw you under the bus," she cockily admits. "I know everything. The blackmail, the victims… If you're lucky, they'll end your pathetic life tomorrow in the electric chair."

He finally gives the redhead a grin of approval.

"Now tell me what this blackmail was," she orders with a hard stare. "Why Killian? Why FuturePharm?"

"Years ago, he nearly drove that company into scandal," he casually explains. "Aldrich was new to the business-this was before I was in for the murder," he adds. "And I overheard him talking with someone in a restaurant. I was sitting in the booth behind him, eavesdropping, naturally," he continues. "He went on about 'borrowing' some money from his new employers, and he was talking five digits. Of course I was interested, so I stopped him before he left. Said I wanted in on his scam and that I would help." He shifts forward in his chair. "He gave me his card and we exchanged numbers. The next morning, he called me up asking for my advice, but I hung up thinking that the boy was acting on a foolish whim. Well," he pauses, "Two weeks later, I read in the paper that FuturePharm has been a victim to a hacking. Thousands of dollars were dwindling each day, and no one knew why. But I knew."

"So you got in contact with him," Natasha assumes.

"I even threw myself under the bus," he replies with a crooked grin. "Four years they gave me. I already had a record, so I wasn't afraid."

"Did Killian pay any visits?" she prods.

"He did, yes," Trevor nods. "Said he would be forever in my debt."

"So he agreed to get blood on his hands for you?"

"Well, he wasn't necessarily getting his hands dirty," he corrects.

"And Maya Hansen? He said she went missing…"

Slatterly's shoulders relax as he begins to chuckle. "You might just find her in Oregon. She and Aldrich had a business meeting there and that's when he used her as a guinea pig for the drug switcheroo technique I told him about. He never did believe me when I said it would work."

"The company never said anything when she never returned?" Natasha asks with a growing interest.

"He stole her credit card and bought a plane ticket overseas. Told the company she up and vanished on him."

Natasha crosses her legs and remains mindful of the phone in her lap. "Killian claims that he has no knowledge of the missing organs. Care to enlighten me on that one?" The man's dark eyes give her an empty stare. "Organs were removed post-mortem," she continues.

"Were they?" There is a mixture of shock and curiosity in his tone.

Natasha leans forwards and presses her hands against the table's sleek surface. "Mr. Slatterly, I advise you to explain, lest you'd rather speak up for an audience," she warns in a cold tone.

"As a man with nothing left to lose, I would tell you if I knew anything, deary."

Natasha clenches her jaw at the nickname and forces herself to slump back into her own seat. He has a point. With the electric chair becoming a strong possibility, he would confess if he knew anything. Natasha takes a breath before choosing to further question him. "And you don't have any leads as to who's doing this? Do you happen to know any other psychopaths?"

"If I did, I would request their company," Trevor quips. "We would swap stories."

With that, Natasha ends the recording and lets her chair scrape against the floor as she stands. "It was a pleasure, Mr. Slatterly," she finishes with the amusement of one having teeth pulled.

"I look forward to reading the papers regarding who is finishing what I've started," Slatterly gladly adds as the redhead reaches the door.

"If you live long enough to see that day, then I'll personally tell you myself," Natasha promises, the corner of her lip raised in a smirk. "I'll even put in a request to have them be your cell mate." She presses down on the door's handle and makes her leave. "We're finished, Officer, thank you," she informs the guard by the door.

"Did he confess?" Loki wonders, a steaming styrofoam cup in his hand.

"Yes," she replies. "And no."

"Well," Loki breathes with a smile, "at least you made progress." He offers her the cup, but she holds up her hand to decline. "One cream and two sugars-I didn't forget. This should help with your Hypoglycemia," he teases.

Natasha snatches the cup from him and takes a sip as they march towards the exit. "You had no reason to worry about me. I'm fine."

Loki keeps his gaze forward. "I always like to keep an eye out for my co-workers."

Natasha takes another long sip of her drink. One of these days, he'll learn that she really doesn't need anyone…

The duo is soon back in the car and Natasha sets her empty cup in the holder to her left. As Loki drives, the car's heat kicks into full gear and Natasha's eyelids grow heavy. Her wool jacket hugging her snuggly doesn't help with the sudden drowsiness, either. Funny how two cups of coffee have this effect on her.

Loki swears he hears her mutter something about 'decaf,' but when he brings the car to a halt at a red light, he finds Natasha soundly asleep. "Decaf, yes," he muses with an amused grin. "My mistake, Natasha…"

Her nap is a dreamless one, and that's something Natasha always appreciates. But an undisturbed sleep can't seem to come without consequences. When her eyes open, she finds herself groggily staring out Loki's car window. The entrance to FuturePharm's building greets her and she uneasily shifts in her seat. She can feel dried drool smeared along her lip, as well as the collar of her jacket. Natasha wipes her mouth with the back of her fingers and turns her head to find that Loki's gone and the car doors are locked. _How considerate. _Natasha withdraws her phone from her coat pocket and gives her boss a quick call.

"Sleeping on the job, Romanoff?"

"He gave me decaf," she grumbles, voice thick with sleep. "Where are you?"

"We'll be right out," Nick promises.

Natasha hangs up and quickly runs a hand through her short curls. After a moment, she hears the door's locks click as Loki and Nick come into view. She opens the door and steps out into the refreshingly cool air to greet them. "Where's Killian?"

"Taken in," Fury explains. "But don't think he'll be kept anywhere near Trevor Slatterly."

"I taped his confession," Natasha adds. "He opened up about the blackmailing and Hansen, but not the post-mortem business. It wasn't him."

"One step forward, two steps back," Nick grumbles.

"This is looking to be quite the case," Loki delightedly adds.

"Let's get back to the office, then," Nick suggests. "Romanoff, text me that audio file."

She nods, then moves to the backseat.

Loki opens the door for his boss before allowing himself into the vehicle. "Are you still feeling tired, Natasha?" he wonders as he checks his rearview mirror to find her staring out the window.

"I'm fine," she replies, eyes fixed on the FuturePharm building. "Fine," she breathes in a much softer tone. The sleek window-paneled building trails away from her gaze. Natasha shifts her gaze to the back of Fury's seat and contemplates the case at hand. Who is the thief behind the missing organs? Someone who knows Slatterly? An enemy… Possibly a stalker… She makes a mental note to check for any organs listed on the black market later on. Someone's bound to be making a pretty penny off of those organs. As for the rib, she knows that to be purely symbolical, or maybe it's simply a 'trophy' for the psychopath to keep. It would be useless to sell, so she assumes that a trophy is the more likely option. "Nick?"

"Yes?" Fury answers from the front seat.

"I'll be taking a leave from the university," she announces. "I'd rather devote my time to this…"

A smile plays across the Director's lips. "Alright." He knows that she's itching to be back on the field now. She hasn't been this interested in a case for a long time.


End file.
